


Let it choke

by TheDivineComedian



Series: leave no stone unturned (a series of standalones) [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Boggarts, Gen, Hogwarts Third Year, Remus is a compulsive tea drinker, a bit dark, but also a bit funny, practising Riddikulus on a bowl of haggis, terrible puns, welcome to teaching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-25 19:34:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12042771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDivineComedian/pseuds/TheDivineComedian
Summary: Remus Lupin certainly knew what he should do: Keep his distance. Reassure Susan that running from the Boggart was perfectly fine and understandable. Have her write “I will not skip Defence Against the Dark Arts” five hundred times and then send her on her way, ensuring that whatever issues she had would be dealt with in the proud tradition of the wizarding world: Through avoidance and denial.Except he knew where that path lead.And if he ever wanted to help the Boy Who Lived With Terrible Memories, he should probably start heading down a different one.





	Let it choke

It was, unbelievably, still the first week of Remus Lupin's teaching career. He told himself he'd had no reason to expect it to go entirely seamlessly. On the other hand, he also hadn't expected to somehow mislay a student altogether, so there was that.

_Weren't there supposed to be seven Hufflepuffs?_

He should probably tell someone.

* * *

Remus'd had the brilliant idea while half-asleep on the Hogwarts express. _Confront the third years with their worst fears, they'll like that_. Stroke of genius! In his experience, thirteen year olds loved that kind of thing.

The current batch was no different, for the most part:

The Gryffindors, not known for being easily impressed by mortal danger, had thoroughly enjoyed whacking their worst fears upside the head.

The Slytherins had approached the issue slightly differently. Not only had they dredged up what even Remus considered to be some _weird_ bloody fears, most of them hadn't even bothered with _Riddikulus_. They'd cut out the middle man and just laughed themselves silly at the rotting, dismembered corpses. He had to give them points for that.

The Ravenclaws would not face their Boggart until tomorrow, but news travelled fast in Hogwarts. They knew by dinnertime. He'd seen them practicing _Riddikulus_ on their bowls of haggis. No Ravenclaw was going to be bested by something as irrational as a Boggart.

Only the Hufflepuffs, this morning, had been rightfully, properly frightened. And then, of course, they'd sighed and got to work. Or at least six of them.

All in all, it seemed like a success.

Well, mostly a success. If he was honest with himself, he had to deduct some points for thoroughly avoiding the Harry Potter issue, and some more for somehow losing an entire Hufflepuff. Which, in turn, was how he had acquired a whole new extracurricular activity he didn't really need, in the form of –

* * *

"Detention," said Professor Sprout.

"Pardon me?"

"Not you, junior," said Sprout, with a laugh. "The kid missed class, the kid gets detention. Remember how this works?"

She was repotting something huge and scaly. It had more teeth than any plant should rightfully have. It also wiggled more.

"Oh dear," said Remus, carefully keeping his distance. He wasn't in the habit of reminiscing about his school days, but now a vague recollection surfaced. "Do I have to?"

"You of all people," said Sprout. "See those pots over there?" She pointed her gloved hand at a rickety shelf in a particularly messy corner of the greenhouse.

Remus squinted. "Are those –"

"Those are the _absolutely appalling_ flowerpots I made you paint in your second year. Twenty years of Hogwarts students still haven't managed to break them all. But I never saw you taking a shortcut through the herb garden ever again, didn't I?"

"You never saw me, no," said Remus in a neutral sort of voice. The old professor laughed.

"Incorrigible," she said, wiping dust off her brow. "The answer is yes, Remus. You have to give detention, or they'll walk all over you in no time."

"Right, got it," said Remus. "Student skips class, I get to give up my free evening. Exactly who is being punished here?"

It was, at this point, a rhetorical question, and it got a rhetorical answer. "Welcome to the other side," said Sprout with a cheerful twinkle in her eyes.

Remus sighed. So much for his plans to lounge around in his pyjamas with a Muggle crime novel and a pound of assorted Honeydukes chocolates.

"Though be kind with this one," added Sprout, now elbow-deep in a bag of fresh soil. "She's a good kid usually."

"You mean when she's not skipping class in the first week of the school year," said Remus.

"Yes," said Sprout. "There is that."

* * *

Realising he was not going to get out of this one, Remus had eventually acquiesced. Which was why he was now sitting on what thoroughly felt like the wrong side of the desk for his first detention as a teacher.

He still hadn't managed to dredge up any enthusiasm for the task that lay ahead. It was gone nine in the evening. He was _tired_. The fresh Boggart he'd caught for the Ravenclaws still required some calibration – it had an unfortunate tendency to go for low-key, long-simmering fears, rather than shock-value. Hard to predict, harder to make into something ridiculous.

There was a faint knock on the door.

"Come in," he said, and the door opened with a slow, torturous creak. "Susan, isn't it?"

"Yes?" said the slight dark-haired girl hovering in the doorframe, sounding slightly unsure of the fact. Her eyes darted across the room. Then, for the moment satisfied that no huge toothy dog or leathery bogman or painted clown were lurking in the corners, she ventured into the office.

"Sit down," said Remus, pointing towards a ratty old armchair. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

Already it was obvious this was not how detentions usually went. Susan hesitated, but she was altogether too British to refuse. "No milk, two sugars," she half-whispered.

"Great choice!" said Remus, who thought it was a terrible choice.

While he fired up the kettle with a tap of his wand, the girl scrutinised the office some more. It wasn't a particularly huge office; thus the objective was probably to avoid looking at her teacher. Remus decided to let the silence work for him while he located the two least-chipped cups on the shelf and dug some teabags out of the tin.

She looked pretty uncomfortable by the time he set down one cup of tea in front of her, and leant back in his chair with the other.

"Well?" he said.

"I don't miss class usually," she blurted out, finally directing her attention to a point slightly above his head. Remus counted that as progress.

"So I've heard," he said. "Why start now?"

Her mouth opened and closed as she weighed her options, and decided to go for the blandest lie she could think of. "I wasn't feeling well this morning, and –"

"You look quite well tonight," he stated mildly.

"Yeah," she said. "I mean, funny how that works sometimes." She took a sip of her tea, clearly burned her mouth, even more clearly tried to hide the fact, spilled tea over her sleeve, and tried to hide _that_ fact by flicking her plaid across her shoulder.

"Funny," said Remus, struggling to pretend he hadn't noticed that. He picked up some parchment from his desk and shuffled through the pieces. "Hm," he said again. "You missed quite the fascinating class this morning, Susan. If I dare say so myself."

"I heard," said Susan faintly. "Hannah Abbott said that – "

"Yes?"

"That it wasn't as scary as she'd expected," said Susan.

Honest feedback, thought Remus. Another great Hufflepuff trait.

"Hannah performed an excellent _Riddikulus_ at the first attempt today," said Remus. "Not sure why she'd expect anything less. I didn't."

"The Gryffindors were raving madly during Herbology yesterday," Susan said, in lieu of explanation. "Honestly, we all thought it sounded terrifying. But then, Hufflepuffs aren't exactly known for, you know –"

"Blind courage?" suggested Remus.

"Any courage," said Susan miserably.

"And this morning, you decided to uphold the fine traditions of your House by –"

" _You were going to set a Boggart on us_!" said Susan, and immediately seemed to regret her outburst. At least she was abandoning the not-feeling-well line of defence.

"Look, I _said_ I'm sorry," she added. "Now, what do you want me to do for detention? I can do lines. I'm good at lines –"

Remus pretended to consider this. "And if I ever need lines written," he said eventually, "I'll be sure to call on you."

Hidden from view in his coat pocket, he flicked his wand. Somewhere in the shadows behind the armchair Susan was sitting in, a cabinet rattled and shook. The girl jumped.

"What was that?" she whispered.

"That?" Remus said, only now turning his head towards the noise. "Oh, nothing, nothing. Just the Boggart for the third year Ravenclaws tomorrow."

Taking another sip of his tea, he let the silence linger a little. It was punctuated only by rattles and knocks from inside the cabinet. Susan sat anxiously.

"Would you like to have a go at the Boggart now?" he inquired after a while.

" _No_!" The ferocity of her response probably surprised her more than Remus.

"Okay then," he said. "Ghastly noise though, isn't?"

"I'm sorry," she said. "I hope you don't think badly of Hufflepuffs now, sir."

Remus regarded her over the rim of his teacup. "Why would I do that?"

"Because everyone does," said Susan. "People say that, if we were clever, we'd be Ravenclaws, and if we were brave, we'd be Gryffindors, and if we had any ambition at all, we'd be Slytherins. Even the Sorting Hat is mocking us!"

"The Sorting Hat," said Remus, leaning back, "is a hat."

That astute observation was met with puzzled silence. "Professor?" Susan said eventually.

"It's a thousand year old hat that can't rhyme," Remus clarified. "I mean, there's plenty to mock right back."

Susan stared blankly. Those, apparently, were not the ways of the Hufflepuffs.

"And being, as it were, a _hat_ ," Remus started again on the same line of reasoning, "the Sorting Hat is perhaps not particularly in tune with the intricacies of the human mind. There are more than four types of people, you know."

"Three," said Susan bitterly. "Hufflepuff is taking the leftovers, remember _?_ "

"No shame in not fitting in," said Remus. "All it means is that Hufflepuff house is full of surprises."

Susan mulled over the conversation. "Those are kind words, Professor," she said finally. "But I don't think I surprised anyone by being the one who ran away."

"When dealing with the Dark Arts," said Remus, "running away should always be considered as a valid strategy."

"It's just a ratty old Boggart," said Susan hotly. " _Why_ can't I –"

"Good question," said Remus. "Why can't you?"

This, again, was met with puzzled silence, and Remus realised he was at a crossroads.

He certainly knew what he _should_ do: Keep his distance. Reassure Susan that running from the Boggart was perfectly fine and understandable. Have her write "I will not skip Defence Against the Dark Arts" five hundred times and then send her on her way, ensuring that whatever issues she had would be dealt with in the proud tradition of the wizarding world: through avoidance and denial.

Except he knew where that path lead.

And if he ever wanted to help the Boy Who Lived With Terrible Memories, he should probably start heading down a different one.

Well, then. Remus took up the parchment with the class roster. "It's Susan _Bones_ , is it?" he said.

"Yes?" said Susan suspiciously.

" _Bones_ as in –"

He'd hit a nerve. The girl's face suddenly went hard. "You know perfectly well. Everyone does," she said. "People always look at me with so much pity when they learn my name. They keep away. Like they think it's catching if they get too close. They think they have me all figured out, but they're wrong. It was too long ago, I can't even remember them."

"I can," said Remus.

Having run slightly out of steam, Susan could only say, "Really?"

"Well, I remember Edgar and Charlotte," Remus clarified. "We fought the same war. Met the kids once, too."

" _You_ fought in the war?"

"Don't sound so surprised," Remus said with a smile. "Half your family did. And it was hardly glamorous. We didn't seek it out; we chose a side and the war found us. I expect it was much the same for your aunt and uncle."

He paused as memories, long archived, slid into place. "They weren't heroes," he said. "No-one was. But they _were_ extraordinary, and they were Hufflepuffs. And from what I heard, your grandparents were just as remarkable."

"So people say," said Susan. "Everyone says that. They were extraordinary, brave, on the right side of history. It's like they're these role models, you know? As if anything less than dying for the cause is inacceptable. No-one ever explains how to be good _and_ survive."

She looked up at him, finally, and her eyes narrowed as she realised the obvious. "You survived," she said. "How? What did you do better?"

"Nothing," he said sharply, reminding himself not to snap at students. "Nothing," he said again. "I got lucky."

 _Lucky_ , he repeated in his head, thanking the fates that thirteen year olds were notoriously bad at recognising sarcasm.

"No need for luck now," he said. "We had twelve years of peace. Don't resent your family because they died to secure it."

"I _don't_ ," said Susan. "But I'm sure my mum and Auntie Amelia would have preferred their family to be alive. Is that selfish, to want to see my family happy? Even if that means the world is a tiny bit less peaceful?"

 _Yes_ , was what Remus, in all honesty, wanted to say. Yes, it was selfish. He'd had worked through the same line of reasoning years ago. But the terrible truth was this: the Death Eaters had never been happy with _a tiny bit less_.

"It's understandable," he said. "But that is the truth about tragedy of such proportions, it can't be contained within just one generation. It tends to linger."

 _Harry Potter_ , he thought. He watched her intently.

"How do you mean?"

"You never knew the people you lost," said Remus. "But you grew up with the spaces they left. You see them in your remaining family. You hear them in the silence of an empty room."

Susan looked away. "Nicely put," she said tonelessly. "Sometimes it's more holes than anything else. It's _seems_ stable, but it's really just… barely there. Fragile. One more blow, and it's just particles."

 _Finally, the point,_ he thought. "And you're scared that blow is coming?" he asked.

"Last year," said Susan, "my greatest fear was whatever was hiding in the Chamber of Secrets. The year before, my greatest fear was speaking in front of the classroom. But now? Sirius Black broke out of Azkaban, and no-one saw it coming. They say You-know-who's not really dead. They say Sirius Black is going to join up with him and –"

Remus cut her off. "So that's a yes, then," he stated.

" _Yes_!" said Susan. "All I know is already just barely there, and it will be gone in a heartbeat, and I'll be too scared to do anything about it."

"Susan –" he said, momentarily at a loss for something helpful to say. _It's not just your family_ , he wanted to explain. _It's everything_. He caught himself just in time; that was entirely too cynical for a thirteen year old.

"I don't know how to make that look ridiculous," said Susan. "Any ideas?"

It _did_ sound like a challenge, Remus had to admit, even for the experienced prankster.

"Sometimes you get a stroke of inspiration when you see it," suggested Remus with a meaningful glance at the rattling cabinet.

But Susan wasn't going for it. "If you knew my Uncle Edgar and Auntie Charlotte," she said instead, "did you know the others? The McKinnon family? The Prewett brothers?"

"… The resistance was a close-knit group," said Remus.

Susan hesitated. "Did you know the Potters?" she asked at long last.

"Danced at their wedding," he said. "Why are you asking?"

"Because Harry Potter seems lonely sometimes," Susan said unexpectedly. "Well, you know. He has friends. But there's more than one kind of loneliness, is there? I'm sure he'd appreciate learning more about his family."

And that, right there, was why the world needed Hufflepuffs, thought Remus. Yes, it needed people who were prepared to fight for what was right. It needed people who were prepared to think things through. It probably even needed people who would follow their ambitions with cunning and cleverness. But it also needed people who could perceive a hundred kinds of loneliness.

Still, he smiled noncommittally. Harry Potter had been on his mind, yes, but that was a problem that would have to wait. In a way, it was a problem that he had procrastinated on for the last twelve years. He couldn't afford to get it wrong now.

"Well, time's getting on," he said with a glance at his watch. "How about we wrap this up?"

There was an air of surprise. "I can't believe I'm saying this," said Susan, "but what about detention?"

"Important aspect of Defence against the Dark Arts," said Remus. "Knowing which battles to pick, and _when_. There absolutely is a time and place for running away, and I won't fault you for it."

"Really," said Susan incredulously, "am I getting house points for this now? Since it's a widely accepted Defence against the Dark Arts strategy, and all?"

"I wouldn't go that far," said Remus.

Susan wasn't getting up, though. Remus took another sip of the tea . It had stood neglected for a while, and he realised it was stone cold.

"Professor," said Susan. "I have another question, but I'm wondering whether -"

"Whether you should be asking?" said Remus. "Not in my class."

"If you say so," said Susan. She braced herself. " _Why_ are you doing this thing with the Boggart?" she said. "What were you thinking? Did you not expect some… gnarly bits?"

"Oh, I did expect gnarly bits, and I got them," said Remus. "I did it because Boggarts are a real thing that exist in the world. When you're alone and vulnerable, a Boggart will isolate and hurt you. When you come prepared, surrounded by friends, you're capable of so much more. It's an important lesson to learn, that's all."

"So it's not because you're secretly a – "

Remus had to admit he was slightly startled. It had taken James and Sirius _years_ to figure that one out, and they'd lived together. Four days would be a new low.

"A what, Susan?" he asked in what he hoped was a neutral tone.

"I don't know, some sort of child-hating sadist," said Susan.

Ah. He wasn't sure if that was any better than _werewolf_ , but he would take it.

"Some of the Hufflepuffs were wondering," Susan added, uncomfortably. "Because of the Boggart, and all."

"I promise that's not the case," said Remus. "Also," he remarked, "I have _got_ to wonder what kinds of teachers you've met, if this is your first thought."

"You know who," said Susan darkly, then her hand flew to her mouth. "Well, not _you-know-who_ , but –"

"While I am sure I do not know who you mean," said Remus innocently, "I would propose that either would look fetching with a stuffed vulture on his hat." For the first time, Susan actually laughed.

"Thank you for that, Professor," she said. "I'll pass it on to the Hufflepuffs. Good night."

"Good night, Susan," he said, and then had an idea. She was almost at the door by the time he'd made his decision.

"Susan," he called after her.

Susan turned. "Professor?"

"There's going to be a Boggart in your end-of-year exam," said Remus.

Predictably, Susan didn't look too happy at the news. "And?"

"Your choice," said Remus. "You have all year. When you're ready, face your worst fear here, in this office, and go into the exam prepared. Or don't, and face it alone. Either way is fine by me."

"All year, you said?"

"Yes," said Remus. "Just give me a couple days' notice, I'm going to need to find a fresh Boggart."

Susan shook her head. "You realise those are both terrible choices," she said. "All right. I'll let you know. And Professor?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks for the tea."

* * *

_Harry was hearing his dying parents_.

Whenever Remus thought he was through with it all, that nothing could faze him anymore, something like _this_ came along. He remembered talking to Susan Bones about it at the beginning of the year, five months ago. _Tragedy lingers_.

Boy, did it ever.

Harry had just left, or rather fled, their private lesson, and only now did Remus allow himself to sink back in his chair, his head in his hands. _I'm sorry, James_ , he thought. _I can't teach him how to be happy._

Briefly considering an alternative career, this time as an alcoholic, Remus reminded himself that he needed to be a smidgeon more self-aware than young Harry Potter. Intellectually, he realised that the utter defeat he was feeling was an aftereffect of the Dementor, emulated by Harry's Boggart with bone-chilling precision. Remus wasn't even at the centre of that nightmare's attention, and the private lessons were already starting to wear him down.

No wonder Harry was so miserable.

Also, Remus's secret chocolate stash was seriously depleted by now, and the nearly full moon was pulling at every fibre of his tired body. No wonder he felt like giving up.

 _All right, Lupin_ , he thought, invoking the same mantra that had got him through the last twelve years: _Less moping, more problem-solving._

Since the latter wasn't really working for him tonight, he settled for tea-making as an acceptable second choice.

There was a timid knock at the door.

"No, Harry, you can't have another go at that bloody nightmare," muttered Remus under his breath, moodily choosing a second cup from the shelf. Aloud he said, "Come in!"

"Bad time?" breathed a voice from the door.

He carefully put a friendly smile into place, then turned around. "Susan! I wasn't expecting you."

"Yeah," said Susan, out of breath. "Sorry. I need to have a go at the Boggart." She had obviously hurried, she was red in the face and her hair hung in disarray.

Remus didn't let his expression change, even though this really, _really_ wasn't what he needed today: another dark, complicated fear to work through. He considered telling her to come back another day.

But then, what sort of teacher did he want to be? Fears needed to be faced, not avoided. Didn't mean he had to like it.

"Be my guest," he therefore said, sighing inwardly, and nodded at the locked cabinet.

"What, now?" said Susan, some of her momentum gone. "You said to give you a couple of days –"

"Long story," said Remus. "Would you like some tea first?"

"Yes, please," said Susan with what was probably relief. "You're probably wondering why –"

"You're probably stalling, so let me help you out," said Remus, pouring her a cup. "Sirius Black just broke into the castle for the second time. _Ergo_ , the first time wasn't a fluke, and it got you wondering whether he's more powerful even than Albus Dumbledore. You're here to get a handle on your fears so you'll know what to do when they become reality, and you ran here because you thought you'd run out of steam otherwise."

"Okay," said Susan. "You keep doing this. _How are you doing this_?"

Remus turned, smiled politely, and handed her a cup of tea. "Doing what?" he said innocently. "Oh, and it's half nine, best get a move on. What is your Boggart?"

"I… We talked about this," said Susan.

"Yes," said Remus patiently. "I remember. We talked about your diffuse fear of your world falling apart. What do you think the Boggart is going to turn into? What _concrete_ image?"

Susan swallowed. "I haven't got the faintest," she admitted. "Do you?"

Remus didn't. With complex fears like this, it really depended on the individual Boggart. Some were more literal. Some went for metaphors. Some went for the throat.

He shrugged. "Only one way to find out." He motioned Susan to walk forward.

"Are you _sure_ –" she began, but then the cabinet doors opened with a bang and she dropped her teacup.

To be fair, Remus just barely managed to hold on to his, as the lights went out, one by one. His office was left bathed in a ghostly green glow.

"Of course," breathed Susan. "What else…"

Remus stepped forward without thinking. It was second nature. No-one was going to have to face the Dark Mark alone if he could help it.

"Well," he remarked, after a few seconds of taking in the nightmare vision. "It's certainly been a while since I last saw one. How did you –"

"Photos," said Susan tonelessly. "Professor, what now? What do I do?"

"You take a moment and think," said Remus.

"Take a moment – " said Susan incredulously. "What about _that_?"

" _That_ ," said Remus, with some difficulty, "is a Boggart. Right now it's feeding on your fear – it's not pleasant, but ultimately no different than letting a mosquito suck your blood."

"But I am sc–"

"Well then," said Remus. " _Think_. How can you make this less scary?"

The serpent protruding from the skull's mouth was hissing and creeping closer. Susan took an involuntary step back. Remus noted she was shaking like a leaf.

"I thought I was ready," she whispered.

"I daresay you are," Remus said. "You came."

She let out a held breath. Remus could see she was trying to calm herself down. "Maybe a hat?" she suggested. "Lacy veil, stuffed vulture, you know, the works."

"A truly versatile hat," said Remus. "Try it."

Susan lifted her wand. "Ri-riddikulus," she stammered.

Nothing happened.

"Riddikulus. _RIDDIKULUS_!"

The skull gave a brief jolt, but remained as it was. The mood lighting didn't help.

"Good intonation, precise wand movement," said Remus. "The spell itself worked. Maybe the humour in that particular image has gone stale."

"Maybe," said Susan. "It certainly kept the Hufflepuff common room entertained for a couple of months."

"How do you mean?" said Remus, surprised.

"There might have been a number of, you know, casual jokes," she said. "Artwork. … Maybe a shrine." She paused. "Dramatic re-enactments on Sunday nights?"

 _Mission accomplished_ , thought Remus, but he was careful to leave his face perfectly blank.

"What do you suggest instead?" added Susan, never taking her eyes off the skull. "Because, Professor, I _really_ feel like running away now."

Remus closed his eyes briefly, pulling up a memory from the archive that was his school years. He usually kept them at bay, but this one might just be helpful.

"Can you bear it a little longer?" he said. "Because I'd like to tell you a story."

"What, _now_?"

"It's relevant, I promise," he said. He took a sip of his tea, staring down the skull with absent-minded politeness.

"It was in my seventh year," he began. "The very last day of school. The war had been going on for a couple of years by then, but it was the eve of the war for us. That night, during the end-of-year feast, a Boggart got loose in the Great Hall. It was a prank –"

 _Though none of ours_ , he remembered.

"– and it worked perfectly. The Boggart was magnificent, it scanned everyone, it wasn't confused at all, you know why? Because most of us were terrified of the same thing."

"It turned into the Dark Mark," said Susan.

"Exactly," said Remus. "Back then, everyone knew someone who knew someone whose family had been attacked. The Dark Mark appeared in the Great Hall, and nobody realised it was a Boggart. Panic broke out."

First years had been crying, he remembered. Children had been running, climbing over tables, climbing over others, trying to get away, _away_ –

"That's why they were doing it," he said. "The Death Eaters knew exactly how fear paralyses a society. That's why the deaths. That's why the Mark. That's why the masks. Enough fear, and we were tearing ourselves apart."

"What happened then?"

"Some of us figured out what it was, and they called it out." said Remus. "But a Boggart fed by a shared fear of that magnitude is extraordinarily strong. Even the teachers were reluctant to face it."

Even Dumbledore, Remus remembered. _Especially_ Dumbledore. In the dark hours that came later, Remus had even suspected Dumbledore had let in the Boggart in the first place.

Back then Remus'd condemned that thought as treacherous, but was it? Was it really? The man had abandoned one-year-old Harry Potter, left him with the worst possible people to replace Lily and James. Would he truly shy away from making a hundred first-years cry if it served his purposes?

Either way, there was no denying that, on his last day of school, Dumbledore had sat back and watched his students. Noted carefully who was laughing. Who was running. And who was going to face it.

Remus tried to pause the memory, to no avail. It had been Sirius, he remembered crystal-clear. True, he'd stood side-by-side with James, but after a minute's hasty discussion, it had been Sirius who had said the words.

The same words still rang in Remus's ears, some fifteen years later. Amidst the panic, the noise, the shouting. _Death Eaters? Ha. They can choke on it_.

Remus hated to repeat those words now, but they had been shockingly effective. For the sake of pedagogy and his sanity both, he wanted the Dark Mark gone from his office now.

"Let it choke," he said, and Susan understood.

"Riddikulus," she said, her voice low and determined.

In front of them, the skull was choking on the serpent, coughing and shaking and snapping for air. The green light was flickering on and off. The skull tipped to one side, the serpent thrashed and then, lay still.

And then it was over.

While Remus banished the Boggart back into its cabinet with a flick of his wand, Susan let out a long-held breath.

"That," she said, "was rather more… _grim_ than I expected." She looked up.

Remus shrugged, flicking the lights back on with his wand. "Are you still scared?"

"No," said Susan.

"Well, then," said Remus. "That _was_ the point of the exercise."

"But," she said, an air of confusion around her. "Shouldn't I be laughing?"

"I don't know, should you?"

While she was still figuring that one out, Remus started to pick up the shards of the teacup Susan had dropped. Reflexively, the girl got down on the floor to help him clean up.

"Seems to me," he said, pondering whether the cup was salvageable, "the Death Eaters have bitten off more than they can chew."

"Sorry, what?"

"I suppose they must find the truth hard to swallow," he said, regretfully levitating the sad pile of shards to the bin.

"Stop it," said Susan. She got up from the floor, already grinning. Hufflepuffs were _easy_.

"But you know what people say, Susan," said Remus. He scourgified the puddle of cold tea, and motioned her politely towards the door.

"What do they say, Professor?" she said in a sort of defeated tone.

Moony grinned mischievously. "That you can't have your snake and eat it."

"…That was _terrible_."

"Good night, Susan."


End file.
